


thinking you're good at flirting in your head makes you good at flirting in real life

by painting



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 09:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16930896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painting/pseuds/painting
Summary: the host of a crowded and smoky party – who has both a sneezing fetish and a cat – shamelessly hitting on the only guest with allergies





	thinking you're good at flirting in your head makes you good at flirting in real life

**Author's Note:**

> same old same old. if you dont have a sneezing fetish well first of all sucks to be you. second of all feel free to read this story but its going to be quite boring on you. 
> 
> if you do have a sneezing fetish then welcome to my fic and i love you! i didnt come up with the names or set the location in my city by choice but everything else comes straight from my horny mind. hope you all kin the narrator as much as i do

James and Archie lived in a shitty second story walk-up in Logan Square, its crumbling walls acting as a reminder of how far the both of them are from reaching a salary hefty enough to make a dent in their loans – two years for Archie, until the end of his residency, and what was looking like at least two lifetimes for James unless a billionaire suddenly had interest in buying one of the three paintings he's bothered to finish since 2001. It was the type of unit that quickly transitioned from chilly and spacious to hot and cramped as residents from Archie's hospital flooded in to take welcome advantage of James and his hospitality. He watched, proud and boasting like a peacock fanning its tail, as his apartment filled up with physicians and noise and smoke.

It was just past nine when he noticed the cute curly-haired doctor – the one who'd come in wearing the red scarf, James remembered, because he'd been sure to amp up the flamboyancy when complimenting it so the other man would get his message loud and clear – standing off to the side of the punch bowl and puffing on an inhaler.

Aside from introductions, James hadn't spoken with him very much. He knew the man was a second year resident and that he was originally from sunny Florida – and that he liked dudes, but no one had told James in so many words, other than the look in doctor's eyes – _and his jewelry_ – but aside from that, James really didn't have much to go on.

He couldn't exactly approach him and say _Hey, so, you got asthma or what?_ , so he settled for his own natural, remarkable charm, ambled over gracefully, and went for the next best thing.

"How's your first Midwestern winter faring, _doctor?_ "

It was perfect. Light and generic, almost comically so, and flirty in a way that allowed James to get away with never having learned this dude's name.

Maybe James could've waited until he was done sucking in that medicated mist or whatever using an inhaler was supposed to mean, but the way the man squinted at James so intently with the bottom half of his face covered was unexpectedly enticing. It was like James was sexily battling the medicine for the doctor's attention, and James was winning.

When he exhaled, James could see a couple wisps of medicine leaving his lips, making him look a lot like the gaggle of residents smoking weed in the other room. Only this version was hotter, somehow.

"Lot better than your first Floridian summer would, I'll tell you that much," he said. He slipped the device into his pocket easily without breaking eye contact.

James nearly purred when he said, "I can handle the heat."

"Never said you couldn't, Jim," the doctor quipped back. James did what he could to keep his eyes from widening as he noticed how much thicker the man's voice was sounding, almost like he'd come down with a cold between their introductory chat an hour ago and now. "Just saying I can handle a little snow."

It's only November, James wanted to say. It's about to get three times as brutal out there. I'll lend you another scarf if you aren't prepared.

Instead, though, he dropped the game and asked, "How'd you know my name?" More specifically, "How'd you know it enough to nickname me?"

The other man looked confused. He even tilted his head.

"You… told me," he said. "When we first met?"

"Oh. Fuck," said James. "Well, I don't remember yours, so that isn't fair. What is it?"

Doctor Blue Eyes huffed a laugh. "It's Nick."

"Chicago too cold for you, Nick?"

Nick laughed and told him to fuck off. James wanted to marry him. Then, Nick said, "You northerners always act like you're so tough because you like to freeze for half the year. The rest of us can freeze too; we just choose not to."

"So it is too cold for you," James deduced.

"No city's perfect," said Nick. "You from around here?"

The attempt at small talk made James wonder whether Nick was keeping him around because he was stuck off in the corner away from all the smoke, or because he genuinely wanted to get to know him. Odds were stacked in James's favor, because he wasn't sure how badly off Nick's lungs actually were, or if he was using an inhaler because he was getting over having bronchitis or something. On the other hand, getting to know people was what parties were for.

"Uh, yeah," James answered. "South side."

"Heard that's where all the good weed is."

"Huh." James couldn't believe how gallant Nick sounded, especially for a man in his late twenties who was choosing to talk about weed. James supposed that wasn't any more juvenile than hosting a party that would inevitably hotbox his entire apartment. "You smoke?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Not tonight?"

"Allergies are acting up," said Nick, like it was nothing and didn't set all of James's nerve endings on fire; like it was something that happened often enough for him to mention it so offhandedly as though he didn't even mind. Hungrily, James prompted him further.

"What, in the winter?"

"Something in the air. Don't worry about it," Nick said. James had no idea how someone could talk about their allergies bothering them and still sound so cool. "I'm fine."

"Yeah?"

"Just a little sneezy." Oh, god. "Might not be such a good idea to aggravate two birds with one stone, do you know what I mean?"

"Sure," James said, because he wanted to act normal more than he wanted to say, _No, I don't know, oh my god, can you please tell me everything about what you just said?_

He regretted not gathering more information just a moment later, when someone named Neela came around to get a drink and stole Nick's attention for some sort of insider science joke that James did not understand nor care about. He walked away in a manner that was very socially appropriate, all without displaying his very present reluctance, and vowed to mingle and host as he was born to do without taking an eye off of the very hot and supposedly allergic emergency room doctor spending the evening in his dining room.

It wasn't until half past ten when James discovered that Nick was allergic to cats.

Not through observation, unfortunately, and not even the first time he heard it mentioned, because James had become stoned and gotten confused when the other residents exhibited a passive concern for someone named "Coop". It wasn't until Archie asked James if he seemed okay ("because you guys were chatting earlier, weren't you?") that he realized Nick had given him the wrong name.

"He says his friends call him Coop," said one of the residents James didn't know.

"Maybe we're just not friends yet," James said lazily. James didn't know if he wanted to be friends or not – it was too early to tell, and James didn't have such a good track record when it came to social intuition. All he knew is that Nick was hot and had probably been sneezing in the other room without James's observance. "He didn't seem to be suffering too badly or anything."

Regardless, James went off to see for himself.

Nick was sitting at the dining room table, a plate of snacks next to him as he chatted steadily with some lady with a pretty blonde ponytail and gestured way too much with his hands. During the excruciating ninety minutes while they were apart, James had forgotten how cute he was.

The closer he got, the more James noticed the telltale symptoms on the doctor's face. His nose, most importantly, had become flushed and a little raw, especially at the tip and around the underside. James wondered if he'd been using his and Archie's tissue box or the scratchy-small cocktail napkins set out at the end of the table. Maybe he'd get lucky enough to offer him one.

"Hey!" Nick called him over with just the right amount of enthusiasm; warm but not keen. He seemed awfully socially comfortable for someone who was having an allergy attack.

James grinned and stood between them. It felt awkward looking down, but he'd already chosen his position and it'd feel even more awkward to make amends.

"Been a while," James said. He loved being suave.

"Yeah," Nick said. "Have you guys…?"

"No, I don't think so," said Ponytail. "I'm Connie. I'm a second year resident."

James nodded. He smiled. "I'm…" he started, and almost won the world record for best focus when he continued his introduction while watching Nick suddenly stare distractedly at one of the apartment's prized Tiffany lamps. "James. I'm the roommate."

" _hehtCHSHHIU! … ehh'TSSCHHhiu!_ "

"Bless you again!" Connie said before James even had a chance. He didn't know Nick well enough to be possessive, but his head still clouded. He needed to know exactly what she meant by _again_ ; whether his sneezing was becoming a running joke between them and how many James missed while he was in the living room. He was never going into the living room again in his life.

"Thanks, sorry." Nick sniffled and James felt his own knees buckle.

"Jeez, you must be feeling awful. How many is that?" Connie asked, nearly killing James.

Nick huffed good-naturedly. "I don't know," he said. "I've been sneezing since I got here."

What the hell.

"Poor thing."

"It's not so bad."

"Uh-huh. So you're Morris' roommate?"

James took thirty years to realize Connie was talking to him, and then another fifty to realize he was supposed to respond to her. He didn't know if he would be able to say anything to anyone ever again.

"Yeah," he said. "Yep."

"He as bad at cleaning the kitchen as he is turning charts in on time?" asked Nick.

"Depends. Does he only get charts in on time once a month?"

"If that," laughed Connie.

"Great guy though," said Nick. "Really. He's hard on himself." He was still sniffling, no tissues or napkins anywhere in sight. James intended to offer to grab him something to use to clean himself up, but he let his boldness and lack of sobriety win out instead.

"What are you…" he started, but Nick had already buried his face down toward his arms.

" _Hehh'TSCHHioo!_ "

"Bless–"

" _HehTSSCHOO!_ "

"Bless you!"

Nick had shuddered twice, completely obscuring his face but making up for it with the way his shoulders scrunched up with each sneeze.

"Thanks," he said.

James, frozen, almost said a third "bless you" like a broken record. His brain was on autopilot. It took him a moment to recollect his thoughts before he restarted. "Uh, what are you allergic to?"

"Your cat is setting me off," Nick said. James was shocked. Not at the admission, because Nick didn't seem like someone who had ever worn shyness or embarrassment in his life, but at the way he said it; completely non-accusatory without even a hint of bitterness. Most people would at least show some exasperation, but Nick was being totally graceful and not blaming his own body or the apartment or James's pet at all.

"Oh, shit," James said, as though he didn't already know that.

"Oh my god," Nick interrupted. "Don't do the guilty thing. It's fine. Morris already apologized a dozen times and tried to run to CVS to buy me an antihistamine."

"At least let me get you a tissue or something," James insisted flirtatiously. Not because of his body language or tone of voice, but because offering to help somebody manage an allergy attack was inherently flirtatious in nature.

Nick shrugged. With a smile, he said, "If it'll make you feel better."

"You said no when _I_ offered!" Connie said.

"I'm allowed to change my mind," Nick said. He wiped his eye and James privately considered it to be a wink.

Connie replied with something that James didn't hear due to his extremely crucial and voluntary mission. He floated through the kitchen and down the hall into his bedroom, because he wasn't going to risk grabbing anything at all from the living room, lest he become lost and enraptured in a conversation while in a state wherein he could not trust his own attention span. He couldn't handle any of Archie's doctors talking to him now. He was busy.

There was a box of Kleenex lounging on his dresser in a similar fashion to his and Archie's brown tabby lounging like a queen at the head of James's bed. James didn't pet her. He didn't touch anything. He didn't even turn the lights on. James grabbed the box and fled.

When he ambled back into the open dining-kitchen area of his apartment, James and his hawk eyes _saw_ Nick sneeze but didn't hear a thing because apparently nobody at this godforsaken party knew when to pipe down. Nick sneezed again as James crossed the room, turning away from Connie and using his shoulder this time instead of his arm. When he didn't emerge right afterward like James had seen on the previous two occasions, James chose to stay where he was in case his return might disturb the process, god fucking forbid.

Surely enough and because God existed after all and was probably present in James and Archie's dining room, Nick did sneeze a third time. The disruption to his previously-exhibited pattern made James feel like he was on the moon. Connie said something and Nick nodded at her, then turned away again to quickly swipe the back of his hand underneath his nose.

That was James's cue to save the day, or maybe even the world.

When he set the box down on the table, Nick really laughed. Not that huff or the chuckling he was doing before, but the kind where he got a little louder and threw his head back.

"You brought the whole box!" he said.

"I could take it back and just give you one sheet," James mock-threatened. He felt his eyes going wide, challenging.

Nick laughed again. "No, no, don't do that," he said. He grabbed a sheet and then he grabbed another sheet and then he folded both sheets. "But now I do get to camp out next to a box of Kleenex so everyone knows I'm allergic to something. They're going to start harassing me about it."

Nick turned away to blow his nose. Connie still spoke to him even though he was busy, and he unabashedly looked up at her while she did.

"We do not harass you!" she said. "We're just making observations and following up."

"Some of you are better about it than others," Nick admitted, but there was humor in his voice. He squeezed his nose with the tissue and then used it to wipe underneath. His sniffling afterward suggested that it wasn't actually all that helpful.

"You usually just roll your eyes at us anyway," Connie said.

"To be fair," Nick said, his eyes following James while he pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, "I am a doctor. I know what to watch out for."

"So are we," Connie said.

"So leave the work at work."

"As someone who isn't a doctor, and never will be," James cut in as he sat down, "I get to ask. How are your allergies, man?"

Nick lifted his eyebrows.

"Pretty bad, Jim."

It was Connie who laughed that time.

As it turned out, Nick was right about the other residents curiously and casually approaching him to ask after his health. It was always like they were teasing him, which was good for James, because it meant that this guy was cool talking about them and wasn't about to just _not sneeze_ in a social situation because of some misplaced sense of bravado.

Connie had left shortly after the tissues had been delivered in order to let James do his thing, and whether that was her intention or not, it had been going pretty great. He knew he came on strong, but it was mostly on purpose, and he could tell Nick was into him. James would have backed off just fine if he wasn't, because he didn't waste his time or his charm for just anyone, but he had a good feeling about Nick and his blue eyes and curly hair and medical degree and his allergies.

He had just finished sneezing four times in a row, all into a neatly folded stack of Kleenex and a little louder than before, when some nobody named Greg had shown his face and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Lungs holding up alright, big guy?" he said. He sounded entirely unconcerned, but the comment itself seemed good-spirited.

Nick smiled at him, cocky and relaxed. "You tell me," he said. James had no idea how he could maintain an attitude like that with his voice sounding so wrecked.

"You said you were gonna leave at ten to spare yourself, s'all I'm saying."

"Uh-huh," Nick said. "What time is it?"

"Eleven forty-five, Wheezy," answered Greg.

"You heading out?"

"I'm on call tomorrow. Six A.M."

"Better get out of here, then."

Greg gave him another pat, less gently this time. "I'll see you," he said. "Don't hurt yourself, Coop."

James watched Greg leave, then he asked, "Who is that?"

Nick couldn't answer right away. His expression changed abruptly just before he bowed his head into the same set of tissues and twisted away from James toward the middle of the table.

" _HehTZCHHhoo!_ Hang on–"

James waited. He could have waited for the rest of his life.

" _Hhh'EHTSSHOO!_ Greg?"

"No, I know who– bless you– I know Greg. I know all about Greg. Who's Coop, is that you?"

Nick looked like he’d been caught off guard, which was even cuter on him with his nose and eyes all pink like they were. Most expressions were. He eyed James like he was fucking with him or something. "Yeah, that's me."

"Are you pulling a double identity on me, man?"

The confusion melted away from his features, and Nick shook his head.

"Last name's Cooper. That's just what my friends call me."

James got excited. "Oh! Ouch! Okay! You're saying we're not friends?"

He reveled in the cocky, serene, head-tilted-up smirk that Nick offered to him.

Lazily, indulgently, he replied, "I don't know what we are."

James later found out that Nick's original plan to ditch the party after just two hours was not in vain; he'd realized there was residual fur all over the apartment just minutes after arriving, and told the earlier crowd that he'd stay for a couple of hours and leave before his allergies really got the better of him. When James requested his honesty, Nick sincerely stated that he would leave once his chest started feeling tight and uncomfortable, after which he'd be cured with a hit off of his inhaler and a walk to the blue line in the fresh air.

That time did eventually come, unfortunately, once it was nearing one in the morning and both he and James had yet to leave the table (save for a couple of instances wherein James was torn away to hold up his responsibility of hosting a spectacular party). Nick had remained easy and upbeat, but once he started coughing he admitted that it was probably time to go. It was late enough anyway; a lot of the other residents had already retired to their own homes or other Friday night plans.

"Did you stay late just to talk to me?" he asked as Nick accompanied him – at James's request – to retrieve his coat and scarf from the hallway closet.

Nick shrugged, eyes glimmering, and said, "What do you think of that?"

"I think you could've left early and told me to pick up where we left off at your place next time," James said. He had this one in the bag. Although he was skirting the edge of disappointment at the realization that Nick was definitely leaving without hooking up with James, a second meeting sounded a lot more ethical and prime for less interruptions, too, not to mention an easier way for Nick to avoid hospital gossip. Archie talked too much about the drama at that place as it was.

"Pick me up at the hospital Tuesday night," Nick said. "Tag along with Morris; his shift's right after mine. I'll show you the way from there."

James almost asked him how the hell he could just recall _someone else's_ schedule like that, having forgot that you had to be pretty smart to be a doctor.

Instead of replying, _Okay! Bring your allergies_ , James collected himself, grounded his expression, dizzily agreed and sent the doctor on his way.

**Author's Note:**

> dont think i put this in the fic but james is so sloppy and awkward and doesnt know it because he is hot which makes people always respond to him favorably. he's one of those guys


End file.
